First Sign of Spring
by Argentum Famulus
Summary: Not every bud blossoms. Some wither away; others are brutally picked. She volunteered to have herself sold to a geisha house to become an apprentice-geisha. She uprooted herself and now she was trying her best to survive the remainder of her days. "I think you are quite safe... Your thorns will keep away all the scoundrels in this world so you can bloom in peace." AU, no OC.
1. Prologue

**Present Day: A Single Letter & Broken Promises**

* * *

"Misaki, wait!"

She did not listen to the voices that shouted behind her. Instead, she ran. She ran as fast as her feet could carry her. Somewhere behind her, her slippers had flown off and she went on in nothing but her bare feet. She ran out the sliding doors of the house, down the stairs of the front porch, and out of the gates. She did not know if everyone was staring at her; whispering about what a mess she looked; how strange she looked; what in the world she was thinking. But what did strangers matter compared to the only one who meant something (_everything_) to her.

There was a burn running up the entirety of her legs and they begged for her to stop but her stubbornness refused. So she ran ignoring the ache from the muscles of her legs. It as the sort of ache which had not felt such extent of pressure and stress in so many years – probably since the twins were born.

The whispering people stopped. For a second all noise stopped, except for a distinct buzz that was followed by an altogether loudness: sirens.

_To my dearest Misaki._

_I know even if I make a thousand apologies it would still be insufficient in expressing how sorry I am for being unable to keep my promise to you. I imagine you're furious because I have written something like this after I swore that I would return home to you. I can see vividly the way the entire house clears out of the path of your wrath. Except for Tora perhaps, however, he always was a fool._

Pebbles on the path cut the soles of her feet, some of them digging in and clinging to her raw and reddened flesh, the pain present only in the back of her mind. She could even hear the deafening sound of the sirens that warned all the people to rush indoors because an airstrike was coming and the people that were shouting and ushering each other in, shouting for her to quickly run inside to safety, into a shelter. Anywhere, as long as she was safe from the air raid that rained from above. But what did an enemy's assault matter at this point? Who would be left to care that she was gone? She was another uncertainty; unknown; a droplet of flesh and blood in an entire ocean.

_I am writing this letter just as I am about to go the front lines. You call me a know-it-all and a show-off however, to be honest, even I do not know what awaits me on the battlefield. Of course, books tell us that it is power, adrenaline, blood, glory, and death. But I have a hunch that most of it will be blood and death._

She ignored it all.

_I am constantly reminded of so many things. Funny enough, everything I remember revolves around you. It feels like the seventeen years I had before are empty and inconsequential. Which they mostly are because you make all the difference in the world. My brilliant Misaki._

Up ahead, Misaki could see the planes of the enemy flying overhead and leaving a trail of pelleting shells to plummet in their wake. Harmless in appearance until they hit the ground in a cataclysmic burst of energy. Yet in the frenzy of an approaching death, the distinct buzz as they soared by and the whistle of the weapons they dropped onto the town was muffled by the sound of her pounding heart that was louder than any explosion. Nearly everyone was inside already. Buildings around her were up in flames, the trees and houses she grew up around; the path she became familiar with. Everything surrounding her was now up in a wall of brightly flickering flames, crackling in the wood they caught, embers hissing and spitting out. Red and orange and vicious. Nothing of her memories seemed to want to remain.

_For instance, the road where you fell and had your pride injured because I decided to help. I remember how you forced yourself not to cry. I doubt even on the frontlines, anyone would be as large a warrior as you. Then I remember the rows of cherry blossom trees where we walked together. You may hate it but I love to carry you in my arms. It makes me feel invincible._

She ran and ran and ran, around the weaker trees that had fallen and continued to blaze. She skirted around a fallen power line, jumping the wires, arms shielding her when debris spit her way. There was smoke everywhere and she almost missed it but when her eyes caught it, leapt to the side as another great tree fell to the ground with a mighty thump. It scattered soot and embers all over her, the bark burning into ashes.

Beyond the tree was the Okiya and there, standing beside the place where she met her first family in this town was the place she truly called home. A beautiful, modest house for a modest family that was due to grow. It was the home that belonged to the Usui family: Takumi and Misaki and their once expecting children.

_And the most important thing, the treasure I will miss most, is your smile when you sat on my veranda as I drew camellias and chrysanthemums and butterflies on your arm. Your hands will continue to remain a source of wonder for me. It is a pity that I will never see such beauty with my own eyes. I will miss hearing you say my name in anger._

And now it was up in flames, red and orange and vicious. It burned down the dreams and memories that clung to the walls, the place where they spent their time together. The place where he held her in his arms, a home within a home. Somewhere near her, a person screamed as they tried to find a way out of the thicket of fire while another yelled to have their life spared.

He promised her that he would return home to her; safe; sound; breathing; smiling.

_You were my most important person, my most beautiful flower. Misaki. I loved your determination, how you always did your best. I loved your smile. I loved and will always continue to love you, Misaki. I have hurt you countless times but I am asking you again. Please forgive me._

Her knees buckled, unable to hold her weight any longer, and Misaki sunk to her knees. Tears blurred her vision. Her lungs strained and heaved against the thick black smoke that cloaked the space around her. It was quickly becoming a curtain but she stayed, teeth clenched and on her knees, as she watched the last pillars of her and Takumi's home burn down.

Again, fate was robbing something she decided, against all odds, to trust and love and hold close to her heart.

_I am thankful everyday that you said yes and chose to marry me, despite how angry I make you. I am proud and honoured to have been the man you love._

"Misaki-san, get out of there!"

She refused to turn around, making sure to get the last glimpse of their home before the smoke overtook her vision. She barely heard the loud crack or saw the looming silhouette that was swaying above her precariously. When the roof caved into the blaze and smoke overtook her home, she briefly turned around when another loud crack sounded. A flickered gaze above her allowed her see the wooden structure that was quickly descending down.

In that very moment, Misaki's entire mind was wiped clean of a single thought.

_Love our child, the miracle created of our feelings, enough for the both of us and please, forgive me._

_Written with all my love,  
Usui Takumi._

This was it. Here, in front of the ashes of their home, her fate was sealed. Misaki closed her eyes and prayed. Because there was no way out of this mess and in her moment of selfishness, clarity finally dawned on her. Misaki could feel every second of her the time left for her, every breath that passed. She realized that had failed the last thing Takumi had asked of her. She could feel the heat of her end. In a moment of foolish irrationality, she failed both Takumi and their children. And now she would pay the price with her life.

"**_MISAKI!_**"

**...::::~ Ƹ̵̡Ӝ̵̨̄Ʒ ~::::..**


	2. Chapter 1

**Chapter One  
Fifteen Years and a Day Earlier: First Meetings**

* * *

_Early Spring, *Showa 3 (1928)  
*Hanano Okiya_

* * *

She was doomed. It was official, today was definitely her execution date. '_How in the world am I supposed to get back onee-san's *_yukata_ now__?_'

She knew Satsuki would never yell at her for something that the fault of last night's harsh winds. However, Misaki also knew that Honoka would definitely give her a stern and very, very, _very_ threatening talking to – not to mention it was the older girl's birthday, the yukata in question was her favourite one, and she expected the day to go off without a hitch. But, besides Honoka's barefaced intimidation tactics, Misaki simply didn't want to cause any trouble in the *_Okiya_. Everyone had enough to worry about as it was after the drunken scuffle one of the customers had gotten into and Satsuki was responsible for cleaning up both the mess during, after, and next-day-after the altercation ensued.

With a sigh, Misaki desperately looked around the yard until – lo and behold! – she found a fallen branch that would probably just reach the yukata innocently hanging onto the branch of the neighbour's tree. She could only be grateful for her luck that she found the branch and that their neighbour, whoever it was, did not look out into their backyard yet. Standing on the tips of her toes, Misaki stretched her arm out as far as she could and tried to snag the clothing onto her branch.

'_Just a little, tiny bit closer… come on, stretch out a little farther…_' She beamed when the tip just snagged onto it. Ever so slowly, she pulled the nightgown over, making sure it didn't slip off from where it precariously clung.

Misaki, ever the vigilant and prideful youth, was so focused on her task that she failed to notice her once-thought-to-be-asleep neighbour approach.

"Need some help?" She gasped in surprise and let go of the branch as one would a hot soldering rod. Misaki stared at her neighbour with eyes wide in alarm and trepidation, looking every bit a guilty criminal caught in the act. She was like a statue, frozen and apparently shocked into a condition that rendered her not only speechless but unblinking as well.

He stood over her with his arms crossed and face impassive yet... why was it so easy to imagine enormous, plush flowers bloom behind him and a non-existent wind tussle his already-tussled hair? It was easy to understand why her sisters in the Okiya had tittered on about him over the last week. In other words, he was exactly the dashing, arrogant lad that would capture a girl's heart and then crush it between his fingers without remorse.

He quirked an eyebrow, waiting for the girl to say something, give him a sign that he did not cause a child to get a stroke, _anything_ really. Having waited for some odd few seconds and still getting no response from the shell-shocked girl, with a reluctant sigh, he took matters into his own (unwilling) hands.

'_Remember what Satsuki says: always grace potential-customers with the Okiya's grace,_' Misaki thought.

Just as he opened his mouth, she miraculously recovered. "Excuse me," the girl said with a smooth bow and a serene smile, looking every bit the perfect hostess. The shift of her personality was as ridiculously swift as it was ridiculously disturbing. "Sorry to trouble you so early in the day, however, could you please pass that?"

Realizing that he was the one that was now in a mouth-ajar stupor, he promptly pulled himself together and picked up the cloth she was referring to.

"This?"

She nodded decorously and completely unlike the obnoxious little girls he had met in his lifetime. Yet, this – considering his lack of social grace and interaction with most females (at least of his own volition) coupled together with his sixteen and something years of age – was not much to be counted for. Still, he knew for a fact most children were not so… so _unchildish_ by nature. Interest mildly piqued since he first moved in, he sized her up and smirked.

She didn't know what it was about that smirk, but it rubbed her the wrong way. And at that moment – regardless of what her sisters in the _Hanano Okiya_ thought about their so-called mysterious and debonair neighbour – Misaki had come to an instantaneous decision: '_I hate this man._'

"Isn't this just a little too big for you?" The teasing in his voice was very hard to miss. Misaki hated being played with. And unless she was on-the-clock with her duties as a Geisha-in-training, she found it excruciatingly hard to let mocking simply fly over her head. But she knew that Satsuki would not appreciate her ripping off the face of their new neighbour.

A minute amount of change flickered in her features that Usui did not miss. "It doesn't belong to _me,_" she sniffed, her patience, as well as her smile, stretching uncomfortably.

Finally, he thought with wry relief. He was relieved to see that he was conversing with a child and not an old woman who apparently found the secret to eternal youth. Although the girl was still smiling politely, it was easy to spot the lack of sincerity in it as the obnoxious was seeping through. He decided to get to know his neighbour a little better. And what better way to do so than to press her buttons.

He yawned, the sleep still not having worn off, leant against the trunk of his apple blossom tree with a lazy grin. "Then why do you want it?" He couldn't remember the last time he decided to be so obnoxious and pick a fight with a little girl. Surely, he was not regressing into a child?

"Because-" she said it simply, yet there was a sour undertone in her voice (as though she was the one talking to a child) that made him want to laugh "-it's our laundry." He gave her a look of sceptic disinterest and her smile dropped altogether.

'_This annoying man..._'

Clearly, he would not be cooperating with her so her courtesy would be wasted on him. Misaki eyed him – to him, the stare looked resentful and he was not totally wrong – and noticed that the garb was within her grasp. So, as he stood defencelessly with the yukata in his hands, Misaki took the opportunity to shoot her hand up and snatch it away from him in one sweep.

She smiled winningly, though her eyes burned something fierce. He stared at her, taken aback by her actions. "Thank you for helping me retrieve it."

Turning on her heel, she walked away victoriously with Honoka's yukata, the dried laundry, and her well-pruned esteem. She gave him no time to get another word in. Misaki hoped, for the life of her, that they never had to encounter each other again.

* * *

How completely and utterly wrong Misaki was.

The next day, at the same time, during laundry time relatively early into the day, she was outside in the yard once more with her two wicker baskets. As always, one empty to carry in the dry laundry and the other full of sopping wet clothes she had just spent the better of two hours washing down. Just as she stepped out of the Okiya, she noted with resignation that her neighbour was already out on his porch. He lay down there with a newspaper opened over and covering his entire face. For all the world, he seemed to be asleep – that is, if he was not dead, Misaki thought shrewdly.

It was as she began to hang the laundry that the wind picked up. '_It seems I'm in luck today__,_' she thought. The combination of the sun and the wind would be sure to dry the sodden laundry in no time. Then, she could easily finish collecting the clothes and (if time allowed it) iron them, thus, completing a half of her work for the next morning._  
_

She hummed under her breath but then caught herself, wondering whether her neighbour was a light sleeper. If anything could drain her luck, it was the man beyond the feeble hedge-fence. Her eyes flickered toward him, making sure he was asleep. It seemed he was in a deep slumber and Misaki happily went back to her chores. Nevertheless, she did not hum again – _juuust_ in case.

While the wind worked to her favour, she noticed that as it began to pick up, a rustling sound was coming from behind her. Turning her head, she was just able to catch sight as part of the neighbour's newspaper was taken held of by the edge and carried off. She watched it drift forward and back, and forward and back again until it got caught in the branch of his apple blossom tree. And then, slowly, as the wind slowed down, it rustled amongst the whispering leaves until it fell into her yard. This time it got caught in the hedge. Yet, when the wind tried to lift it, the paper stayed firmly snared.

For a moment, as she hung up the last of the laundry, Misaki debated with herself on whether or not she should return the paper; whether or not it would be better to simply throw it out herself; whether or not she should leave it to nature to dispose of on it's own. Unfortunately the debate lasted for a fleeting second since the more decent part of her demanded that she return the paper to its rightful owner. She may not like him, however, that did not excuse the fact that she would ignore him when he needed help.

"Hey, *_oji-san_." He snored on (at least she imagined he snored) and did not so much as twitch a finger. Misaki tried again, a little louder this time. "Oji-san." It took a moment for him to realize that he was being called as he sat up half way, slowly peeling the paper off of him. He wore spectacles as his eyes roamed – his face did not look like that of someone who had been sleeping, she noted – over to where Misaki stood perched on her toes and lips pressed. She had neatly folded the paper and held it out. "I believe this is yours." He blinked at her vacantly and she sighed. "It fell into our yard."

The young man sat up entirely and stared at her curiously, one eyebrow quirked up in wonder of her flagrant sauciness and nerve. The more perceptive part of her noticed how often he seemed to do that, though this was only their third encounter. The other part of her, the more inquisitive one, wondered exactly _how_ he controlled his eyebrows in that he was able to lift one without the other tilting up simultaneously.

She shifted her weight under his unwavering gaze, still holding out the paper. She gave it an impatient shake, expressing with her eyes her irritation. She watched as his mouth slowly opened and she had half a mind to ask if he was usually this stupid when he woke up but held her tongue. After all, she did have the displeasure of dealing with Satsuki's monstrous nephew, Aoi, every morning and waking him up was more threatening then dangling meat in the face of a starved tiger.

"…_Oji-san_?" His dubious tone was not the least bit groggy and she concluded he most definitely was not sleeping; just lazing around inanely. He smirked and Misaki found herself scowling at his arrogance. On second thought, she preferred braving Aoi's ferocity over her sloppy neighbour any day. "I'm not that old, little girl."

"Could have fooled me," she bit back, without missing a beat.

'_What a cheeky girl_.'

He ignored the way she shook the newspaper and inquired, "Into your yard?"

He watched the way her youthful face tightened, eyes losing their annoyance in place of a bitter, hardness. "Yes, that is what I said," she said flatly.

'_Yard next door is the yard of the Geisha house…_' He stared at her a little more closely now, mind going through about how every day she would come out with a large load of laundry in her rather tiny arms. How they did not buckle once under their weight. He approached her leisurely, watching her give a sigh of impatience but wait for him nonetheless.

It was common knowledge of the way young girls were taken in or sold to such institutions for training. Still, he could not help but wonder."Aren't you a little young?" He took the paper from her.

"No." Avoiding his eyes with tight lips, she smoothed down the front of her yukata. "In fact, it is quite normal for young girls to be taken in for training. And the women training me are gracious and extremely generous." Her tone was one of warning and even as a young man, he took her warning quite seriously. It was very clear she did not take kindly to those who looked down on her or the people she lived with.

She did not give any other parting remark or even a nod of acknowledgement. Instead, her actions were identical to what she did yesterday: rounding out on her heels, grabbing the wicker of dry laundry, and heading inside the Okiya without a backward glance.

* * *

"Remind me again: how old are you?"

Misaki scowled but pointedly kept her eyes away from her neighbour's (stupid) face and on the laundry she needed to quickly remove from the clothes lines outside. Today, she had no laundry that she had to hang up however, she had heard that there was a chance it would rain in the afternoon – better to be safe than sorry. "I am discouraged from talking to strangers on my own. Especially strange men."

Never mind that she never even mentioned anything about her age. Where in the world did he get off thinking she was gullible enough to be _tricked_ into telling him anything about her?

He hummed in understanding – even his humming sounded arrogant and stupid! Was there anything that did not? "That's very good advice," he said simply. Then his grin broadened. "So, what was your name again?"

"You," Misaki seethed, finally turning around to give him livid snarl. "Are a creepy old man."

For a moment, he simply blinked at her face. At first, she was pleased thinking that he was simply taken aback. But then, she scowled again when he only pouted like a (very ugly) puppy. "How mean. I'm quite young, you know." His words were dry and bland in a way that made Misaki want to chuck her wicker basket at his face. He was lucky that they were separated by the hedges and her gratitude towards Satsuki put a leash on her recklessness. "Besides, you keep saying that however that is not my name."

"It should be," she muttered under her breath mordantly. She decided then and there, she would completely ignore him. Conversing with him was only a waste of her time and energy, so there was no reason to indulge him with her frustrations.

"Say, are you seven?" She told herself to keep it together and did not respond. "Eight?" Still nothing. From the corner of her eye, she saw him smile victoriously. "Ah, I got it. You're five."

"I am _**nine**_," Misaki shouted with indignation, looking at him thoroughly affronted for even suggesting such a thing. She did _not_ look like a five-year-old child. But it was the self-righteous look on his face that made her realize her terrible mistake. Misaki's face fell into an expression of defeat, her mouth ajar and lips trembling. An odd sound of embarrassment came from her that sounded something like: "Ahhn…"

That sneaky, conniving, conning, lazy, old man! _He tricked her!_ He actually tricked her, Misaki! Lips pressed together and cheeks flushing, he had a slap a hand to his face to contain his laughter although his shoulders were trembling from the effort. To say Misaki was mad would have been an understatement – she was positively infuriated!

"R-Really," he choked out, clearing his throat in attempt to smother his chuckles. It did not work. "You're quite small for a nine year old, you know." He realized, from her furious glower, that his words were not the encouragement he had been hoping to impart on the young girl. "Don't be embarrassed by it though."

"I am _not_ embarrassed!"

But her words flew right over his inflated head as though she had never even said them. "Every caterpillar grows into a butterfly sooner or later."

"Not if the caterpillar gets eaten by a bird," she growled, taking the clothes down and dumping them into her basket with more force than was necessary with dry laundry.

Seeing that his analogy did not impress her, he tried a different one. "What about every bud that blooms into a flower?"

"Unless it withers away or gets picked." Though she was not looking at him, he was certainly staring at Little Miss Sunshine with a deadpan expression. Briefly he wondered what it was that they made her eat the Okiya for her to always be so cross. Perhaps lemons and bitter gourd.

Then again, her answers held a personal edge to them. One that he was quite familiar with and guilty of.

So, leaning against the trunk of the apple blossom tree, he observed her carefully. "What if the person picking it gently uproots it so that it can grow safely?"

Her response this time was not immediate. In fact, nearly a minute passed before she had an answer. "Then, that flower would be lucky," she said slowly, hesitantly. She was young but something aged and weary touched her youthful features. That something was also sad. "But I'm not that flower."

A foreign feeling of protectiveness stirred within him and he found himself looking at her in a more serious light that he had ever bothered to look at anyone before. "I think you are quite safe, *_Tsubomi_-chan." She stopped what she was doing and looked up at where he stood, meeting his gaze with her own. He noticed that her eyes were a very pretty shade of brown, something deep and rich like amber or possibly a very viscous honey. "Your thorns will keep away all the scoundrels in this world so you can bloom in peace."

The way she stared at him was unnerving – as though she could see right through him and rifle through his secrets – but she quickly blinked it away, replacing it with her usual scowl. "My name is not *_Tsubomi_, old man." Misaki made sure to emphasize the negative tense.

"And my name is not old man." He imitated her tone for tone, leaving her flushing with anger. Dumping the last article of clothing into her basket, she gave him one final scowl and frustrated harrumph before stomping back into the Okiya to get back to the rest of her chores. No doubt, Takumi thought, she would be imagining his face while ironing those clothes.

He watched her trudge the entire way until she was inside, something akin to a fond smile on his face. He felt the first droplet of rain on his face and looked up to see dark, bloated storm clouds rolling in overhead. Not particularly in the mood for bathing outside, Takumi made his way into his house.

Bantering with her, while building his appetite for breakfast, also always left him particularly famished and ready to tackle the day's first tattoo customer. Fortunately for him, most people did not prefer to show up to get on rainy days. He hoped briefly that today's client would be swayed not to show up but considering it was a woman. Well, he had his doubts but he continued to hope.

Speaking of females…

His next-door neighbour – specifically the one that he had interacted with as of late – was a cute enough child but she seemed just as obnoxious and mulish as other children were. Then again, no one ever bothered to hold as witty a banter with him the way she did and she was only nine years old. Although, she was a far cry from the types of females he usually had the misfortune of encountering, there was something about very unique about her.

He had his doubts when he had arrived but now, Takumi was looking forward to getting to know his new neighbour better.

* * *

**Author's Note: **I realized that I forgot to put a disclaimer in the prologue of the story and, as result of my terrible laziness, could not be bothered to edit it onto that chapter. So, here, I disclaim any and all ownership of _Kaichou Wa Maid-sama_, from which most of the characters are referenced, as well as _Mademoiselle Butterfly_, from which I drew my inspiration for the plot. :)

*****_Translation and Terminology Notes_

_Showa 3_: simply context of the story's setting in the Showa Era – which lasted from 1925 to 1975 – with the "3" specifically referencing to 1928

_(Hanano) Okiya_: the lodging house in which geisha and _maiko_ (geisha-in-training or apprentice geisha) live during their contract or career; _Hanano Okiya_ simply means the "Okiya (lodging) of the flowers"

_Yukata_: a light, cotton kimono worn by both men and woman; casual enough to be worn both outside and inside the house as well as during summer.

_Oji_-_san_: in the context of the story, it means "old man" or "uncle"; used as an impolite way to refer to a middle aged man similar to the English term "Pops" (A/N: though you rarely hear that nowadays, yeah?)

_Tsubomi:_ Japanese for "flower bud"

**...::::~ Ƹ̵̡Ӝ̵̨̄Ʒ ~::::..**


	3. Chapter 2

**Chapter Two**

* * *

The sound of terse knocking made him look up from Work. Takumi muttered something about being right back, making The Work nearly sob in appreciation for the respite. Finally, a break from all the needle-work and pinching and scratching and inking and digging into his flesh. He wanted a tattoo, The Work, thought. Although he knew there would be some amount of pain, he had never bargained for it to be a torture session in the guise of a service. He prayed the tattoo itself would be worthwhile or else all of this was for naught he thought, rolling his shoulders.

Takumi, on the other hand, was not affected by the same torture and could easily thank the mail person who had taken the courtesy of saying, "Mail for Usui!" At least now he did not have to bother with any superfluous chatter about how he was and how nice the day appeared and was he the only one that thought most social conventions were quite a bother?

Knowing he had Work waiting for him, he did not bother with flipping through the mail and instead set it down next to him before going back to the ink and his needle-brush. The man (Work, as he was dubbed for the moment) having *_irezumi_ done was a scrawny little fellow, an accountant with a family history of grocers whom he helped on his off-days, from the little information he had conversationally given to Takumi. What had he said his name had been? Fukishima? Yamimura? *_Yakisoba_? He certainly fit the criterion for the last one. Regardless, it was something along those lines – it was a very one-sided conversation, mind you.

But that was trivial considering it was his last day in getting his tattoo completed.

Tattooing had never been as slow of a progress as it was with this man. However, Takumi did not wholly blame the customer. After all, it was not to be helped if he was unusually scrawny in build – plus he did not seem the type keen on physical activity. Takumi would say it was even expected that a tattoo around the arm would make him susceptible to an extensive amount of pain.

Moreover, Takumi had been impressed by the little man and his fierce request: "Please give decorate my arm with a serpent, sensei!" In retrospect, the mess of helping him out of a sobbing, trembling muddle was a task he never imagined taking on. And when he had become a 'Sensei' to a man nearly five years his elder was beyond him.

Sometime early in the afternoon, Takumi had finished his task and was putting his ink away while Yukimura – he finally remembered the man's name – admired the tattoo on his arm. He profusely thanked Takumi a good eight times before he was interrupted by a curt, "Thank you for patience and support." Takumi did not have it in his heart to snap at the man because it made him feel like he was picking on a defenceless little girl (one who was not his weisenheiming neighbour). So, as much as he did not want to, he made sure to make an effort at civility.

Yukimura made small talk as Takumi politely saw the man out – again, social conventions necessary to just barely maintain his business. At the same time, he checked the mail he received, adding one worded answers and comments as his way of participating in the conversation. There was not much to go over. Some were unimportant letters, others ridiculous letters, and another did not belong to him at all. In fact, it belonged to his neighbours in the Hanano Okiya.

"-really appreciate your service, Usui-san. I will be sure to let others know about your excellent skills and help your business grow!" He only half listened to the rest of the chatter, ready to dismiss him already, when a familiar little head bobbed past. "Oh, hello again, young lady." Apparently this Yukimura-fellow knew his innocuous (but also not) neighbour. He crouched down to her short stature with a warm smile. "Did you just return from our grocery?"

And there was the polite-hostess smile she used the first day – except this one seemed much more genial and sincere. Takumi felt disbelief at her ability to turn into an innocent and seemingly normal girl when she wasn't snarling at him like the devil's spawn. He also acknowledged a twinge of jealousy (just a smidge) but he knew that was his fault anyways and could not feel guilt for teasing her. It was much too amusing. Besides that, she was already uncomfortable and hyperaware enough in his presence, judging from the way her eyes darted to him.

"Yes," she said, astutely ignoring Takumi and smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth. Peripheral vision was as much of a curse as it was a blessing. "My sisters needed some supplies."

"You always have much to keep you busy it seems." She nodded in agreement and Takumi did not miss the pointed way she stared at him for a second. To think she could get irritated simply by his being present. Just to ruffle her feathers, he smirked back at her. The other man was oblivious to the brief exchange of looks. "Do you need any help with the groceries?"

"No." To Takumi, however, the number of bags she carried seemed to say otherwise. "But thank you for the kind offer."

Takumi thought of the bulky basket of laundry she dutifully carried out each morning without the slightest quiver of the arms. He never considered it, which seemed foolish now, but he knew even she had her limits. In this case, it was the number of bags she carried from the market. It was hard on her. He noted the way she repeatedly flexed her fingers. Still, she resisted exposing such vulnerability to make sure others remained ignorant of the effort she was applying to her menial chore. Obviously, Misaki had a staunch pride and he suddenly wished he could snap at Yakisoba to move along so the girl could be on her way already.

Yukimura looked at the young girl with an expression that jumped between awe and pity. He relented with her wishes. After, making sure to let her know that his offer was extended to her at any time she wanted, he bowed towards Takumi one final time and was on his way. Takumi, on the other hand, did not so much as get a glance backwards again as the girl-next-door swept off to do her own business. But he didn't mind. After all, they always met in the morning during her laundry run – not that she really seemed to want to.

He went back into his house and knowing his next appointment was hours away, he decided to finally read his newspaper. It was never interesting or insightful. Usually, it contained the same superfluous information and gossip from the previous day but with a new element to give it a 'twist'. Even so, he read the entire bit from cover to cover. It was only when he was nearly halfway through the last article of the paper that he suddenly set it down and ran a hand down his face in exasperation. He just remembered it. How could he forget it? The mixed-up letter he received. He had not returned it to the Okiya like he planned to. Better yet, he did not hand it to his haughty neighbour when he saw her – not that she had given him the time of day, anyways.

Grumbling and cursing himself under his breath, he got up to his feet and headed over to the Okiya for the first time since he had arrived. Usually, social convention thought it necessary to greet one's new neighbours, Takumi did not know how exactly it would bode for him by greeting the owner of a geisha house and it did not help that as a young male, moving in next door would – to put it cleanly – reflect poorly of him and his interests.

He hoped that the owner was not nearly as intimidating as the young occupant he had met (and bothered) the past few mornings. Upon entering the lodge, the scent of light perfumes and with a distinct undertone of alcohol overwhelmed his nostrils. For a moment, he merely stood at the entrance, wondering what he was supposed to do now. Up ahead, he saw a lady with cropped and combed hair talking amiably with another man and directing him into a room. Upon her return, she noticed the awkwardly standing Takumi and approached him with a smile.

"Welcome to the Hanano Okiya." Up close, she was significantly shorter than he was. He wondered fleetingly if they made that a qualification in this particular Okiya – it would certainly explain the so-called nine-year-old neighbour's five-year-old appearance. So, with his sarcastic thoughts in mind, he also bowed in kind. "And how are you doing today, young master?"

"Fine, thank you." Best to keep it brief, he told himself. "Actually, I moved nearby some time ago." By that he meant right next door, but she obviously knew that already. "My name is Usui Takumi." He would be a little surprised if the girl had not tattled on the 'big, bad neighbour' next-door. After all

"Ah, yes, yes, of course, hello!" Apparently, the girl had not spread word of his boorish behaviour (he assumed she would be the type to exaggerate) if the owner's bright smile was any indication. She bowed once more, this time with more vigour. The woman was positively beaming. "It is a pleasure to finally meet you, Usui-san. My name is Hyuuda Satsuki and I am the chief lady manager of the Hanano Okiya. Oh, I have heard so much about you. Please treat us favourably." Takumi's forehead crumpled with confusion. From her attitude, he was quite sure that girl would not have said anything but warnings and demon tales about him. It appeared that that was not the case.

Whatever the case, he bowed again anyways. "I'm sorry to drop in so unexpectedly however it seems that your mail got mixed up with mine." He handed her the letter and she took it, surprised.

"I see. Thank you for bringing it over. The mailman must have had quite a number of deliveries today. Shigure-san does not usually make mistakes in his deliveries," she explained. "Even so, sorry for the trouble."

Takumi gave a small smile. At least he knew his neighbours were good – with a few exceptions, yet those (_she_) were manageable. It provided him with a good way to pass the mornings which were relatively uneventful, even in the middle of the week. Judging by the number of wealthy looking men that exited one of the rooms – laughing raucously, he might add – the same could not be said of business within the Okiya. "It's no trouble," he told her.

Walking out after the group of men (he would never understand people's fixations with such places) were the Geishas. Dressed in decorative kimonos and heavily made-up with several hair ornaments, they smiled indulgently and bowed to their customers. One in particular caught his eye – the only one he knew among them.

"Thank you, little one," one of the men said – it was plain to see whom he addressed. "Your big brother will bring you some nice treats for next time, okay?"

She must have been used to such treatment from her 'big brothers' because, yet again, she imparted the same smile and bow she did upon their first meeting. "Thank you for your kind patronage, masters."

The others followed suit, adding, "Please be careful on your way back." The three of them watched the men leave when Takumi met the gaze of the girl he met in the morning. Her eyes widened and he could see the panic that flooded them as they darted about. All at once, she swiftly turned her back to him. He watched as she muttered something to one of the older girls beside her before scurrying back inside the room she had exited.

Satsuki turned towards the guests who approached her and she greeted them graciously, asking about how their visit went as she made transactions with them. Happily, the group gushed about their entertainers and how much they enjoyed themselves and how nice they felt the atmosphere Hanano Okiya was.

Takumi, waiting so he could just get his parting greetings over with – social conventions were indeed such a hassle! – stood quietly to the side.

"The little maiko you have here seems to be flourishing."

His friend, nodding solemnly as though they were discussing the country's politics, added, "Indeed, she's very skilled."

"To think it's only been a few years since she began. She'll be a fully grown butterfly in no time."

Takumi was relieved when they left and even more relieved when he was able to leave the Hanano Okiya. The scent of perfume, no matter how light, was suffocating. He was not used to such scents, especially for long bouts of time. It would have been impossible to wait it out any longer than he had. Although, in retrospect, the flowery fragrances were nothing compared to the way he felt asphyxiated by the weight of little Tsubomi's words from earlier in the morning.

"_Not if the caterpillar gets eaten by a bird._"

"_Unless it withers away or gets picked._"

"_Then, that flower would be lucky. But I'm not that flower._"

Takumi wondered if little Tsubomi – he wished he knew her name – felt the same asphyxiation, morning after morning; day after day; week after week.

* * *

He had seen her! The obnoxious, brutish, neighbour-from-hell had seen her!

Misaki wiped at the tables furiously, wondering how she could have let her guard down so foolishly. She had lost some of her vigilance in the past few years, having gotten used to the peacefulness of the town and the Okiya. Even when she knew better, even when she told herself over and over that this life was one of survival and she would become the weakest link; the most vulnerable prey; she had to become strong and stay on her guard at all times.

'_This,_' she thought to herself angrily. '_This is what happens when you're too naïve._ _Stupid people think they can step all over you and ruin you._'

But no more. Such vulnerability would have to be put to an end. Without a doubt, she lived around trustworthy and honest people however, she had seen and felt the effects – the terrible _consequences _– of naivety first hand. It was up to her to become strong, not only for herself but for those she took it upon herself to protect. And their new neighbour was exactly the 'thing' they needed protection from.

"Misa-chan, I think that spot of the table is plenty clean now."

Misaki blinked up at Erika and then down at her hand which had been scrubbing the same spot for minutes without end. "Ah! Ah, sorry!" Erika laughed off the apology, saying it was fine.

"If I didn't see you do it, I would think that you waxed the tables," she teased.

'_Great,_' she thought. Now, she would have to polish the entire table in the same way so it all looked evenly cleaned. When she was done with the rest of the table, Subaru helped her fix the make-up and hair ornaments that had come out of place in her spontaneous and flustered cleaning spree.

"What is it that's got you so agitated, Misa-chan?" Evidently, she had noticed Misaki's earlier distress.

"Nothing, onee-san. I'm fine." The older girl looked doubtful but let her drop the issue without pressing any further. She just hoped that Subaru did not notify Satsuki about her strange behaviour. Moreover, she pleaded that Honoka did not take too much notice.

It was all that stupid, stalking neighbour's fault. But he was unbelievably thick if he thought for even a second that she would allow his presence and the memory of his nefarious smirk haunt her within her own territory.

If there were two things Ayuzawa Misaki did not take to kindly it was, one, losing battles and, two, trespassers. Henceforth, she decided she would neither lose to her neighbour nor allow him to haunt her on her own grounds.

* * *

Takumi tried to go back to the unfinished article, he really did. But the ridiculous article – some speculation of conspiracy that expounded on the growth of some company's trade with foreign countries and the journalist's fear that Japan would be vulnerable for conquest in the eyes of enemy aliens if it did not work to elevate itself to greatness – was far from where his mind wanted to be. Over and over, without his consent, it wandered off to further decipher the cryptic words of his neighbour when he would be forced to yank it back to what he wanted. He was so distracted by self-opposition and roundabout tug-of-war that he was confused when he heard loud rapping on his door.

He looked up at the clock. It was already afternoon. It was too late for mail and he was not one to usually get visitors any time of the day – unless they were there to get tattoos. '_The four o'clock appointment,_' he recalled in relief.

Finally. A more reliable diversion. Two and a half hours of irezumi and a grown man crying was sure to keep his mind off of– he would not even think about it. So, putting off his article again, he grabbed it and threw it into his rubbish bin with the surety that he would never get back to it anyways. Then he leisurely made his way to the door where his customer waited patiently. Takumi showed him the way in and allowed him to get comfortable while he returned with his supplies. After getting his supplies, he made sure to get a tray with a cup of tea. He learned that the best way to deal with people getting tattoos, especially those new to it or unused to prolonged pain for hours at a time, was to serve them something that would calm their nerves. Although, not everyone required it.

His customer – a bespectacled man named Koganei – insisted he was of the latter.

In the span of the first ten minutes, Takumi found out that his customer was a government agent and although they were supposed to be prohibited from things such as tattoos, Koganei was high enough in rank to have them brush the infraction aside. '_Because the world is nothing if all matters did not always boils down to rank and influence_,' he thought unemotionally. That and the fact that his wife, a woman named 'Tsubaki', would be mighty pleased that he was having *_tsubaki_ inked into his skin. That and a tiger to match.

In other words, the tattoos were a way to stroke his ego, which he soon discovered was rather frail. It turned out that Koganei was not a man unable to go without the tea after all. Takumi, who sensed the struggle he had in keeping face, excused himself for a moment to go to the washroom and give the man some time. By the time he returned, the entire cup of tea, which was probably lukewarm at best for being out for so long, had been drained. Takumi wise decided not to comment on it and quietly went back to his work.

By the time he was done and paid, Koganei craned his neck over his shoulder to get a look at his tattoo. Takumi couldn't be sure if he actually saw it or not but he assumed he did and was pleased with the work because he insisted on taking him out to next door geisha house for a drink. He tried to talk him out of the prospect but he did not take no for an answer.

That was how Usui Takumi had been coerced into going right back to the what he was trying to divert his attentions from, as he found one long and torturous hour later still sitting next to man who was ardently downing his something-th glass of whatever wine he ordered.

He gave a satisfied sigh and asked for another one before turning to Takumi, who was not only underage but also a person who preferred not to divulge his control and consciousness to a bitter beverage. "To think you live by such a great place and don't come here." He watched the geishas at the front of the parlour performing *_kabuki_ for the masses. Although it was afternoon, the place was dimly lit to provide an ambiance that was more appropriate for the type of entertainment provided.

"I am usually quite busy providing my services," Takumi explained, taking a small sip from his barely touched drink. He was still on his first one. And it burned his throat. "I am also underage," he added pointedly.

Koganei easily brushed the reason aside. "Just let them know of your acquaintance with me and you will be fine from here on out. Besides, age is not a matter when you are increasing your knowledge in culture." Takumi had several misgivings of what this man defined as 'culture' but made no comment, letting him flaunt his position without reaction with the hopes that he would quickly get bored and leave. "To make use of such a blessing is _such_-" Takumi's lips pressed together tightly as some of the other man's wine sloshed out, splattering onto his yukata "-a waste of your youth, you know. And look at you!" By the slight slur in his voice, it was easy to tell that he was slowly coming under the influence of his drink. He blinked unevenly and sullenly gestured to all of the younger man. "I bet women are all over _you_, you lucky bastard." Takumi bristled, but did not speak. "I wasn't exactly an *_ikemen_ growing up but I was lucky. The girl I loved decided to settle for me. Yup. I was a lucky one."

It seemed that the man was no longer interested in drinking or ogling the geishas at the parlour's front. Instead, Koganei spent a minute swirling his drink about in his glass with his face buried in the other. A range of emotions crossed his face as though the churning liquid was speaking to him until he set down the glass down loudly against the table and looked at Takumi with solemn eyes.

'_Now what_,' he wondered wearily. He had not signed up for an emotional confession-session. It was instances like this – though he never imagined something of this sort would happen to him – that made Takumi averse to providing any special attention to his cliental. After all, there was no benefit in making it his business to know about them outside of what he was paid for. '_I should have lied while I had the chance._'

"You know what, Usui?"

The person in question sighed and humoured the man with a bland, "What?"

"I have a wife at home," he stated, sheer awe in his voice and face as though the prospect never occurred to him. Fantastic, Takumi thought but made no comment on the ridiculous and arbitrary fact. "I'd love to stay and chat but I have to be on my way right now."

Still, Takumi stared at him flatly, the tips of his fingers tapping against the table in silent fury. '_You say that as though I'm the one that dragged you here, you bastard._'

"Please don't stay on my account," he said in a pitiful attempt at sounding gracious. Clearly, he did not make the cut. But Koganei was still marvelling over his marriage to notice his irritation.

"While it's a shame I live so far from here, I don't think I mind the distance. I have a great family." Obviously done flaunting his career, he decided to take a new course by parading his pride for his family.

'_Brilliant,_' Takumi thought mordantly. Another thing he could add to the list of things he did not care for and never would care for.

Koganei stood up from his seat and bowed to Usui. "Thanks again for the tattoo."

And at long last, the man left. Takumi stared at his back, cursing how long he had to suffer while the latter walked away with renewed vigour and a distinct spring in his steps. Finally, he pushed away his drink and let his head drop against the table. He felt someone approach him and lifted his head up slowly, not wanting to deal with any more troublesome people.

Instead, he found the manager of the Okiya looking down at him with a small smile. "Hello again, Usui-san. You look quite exhausted." Her eyes seemed to twinkle with mirth, as though she had easily figured him out and was laughing at his expense but wisely not mentioning it. He was glad the world was not completely full of idiots. "Would you like another drink?"

For a moment, he only stared at her in contemplation. Her smile was kind and had a maternal feeling about it. It seemed out-of-place. Perverse even, considering her occupation. There was something different in the way she treated him compared to their first meeting. Whatever it was, Satsuki had a peculiar feeling about her, less professional as she had been before and more familiar, open. Like she included Takumi into a secret faction without his knowing. For the first time, he was having difficulty reading a person.

Satsuki eyed the drink in front of him, the one he had barely skimmed a layer from, and it was evident that she was waiting for his response. She did not even need the answer – he was aware that she already knew it – still, he played along with her game of kind-hostess and respected-guest.

"No, thank you."

She observed Takumi briefly and then looked around her, quietly dissecting the environment with her keen eyes. The hours of night were creeping in. Yet, surprisingly enough, it was not demanding at all. On such a slow night, the girls were doing well both on the stage and the ones who were tending to refreshment requests. One pair of hands less would not hurt them and besides, she was long overdue for a break with how busy the rest of the afternoon had been.

Politely, Satsuki inquired if he would mind her company and Takumi allowed her to do so with a simple shrug. It was her property and she was free to do as she pleased, he told her. Satsuki laughed at that and gracefully sat herself down across from him. She had noticed the reluctance with which he had come to the Okiya tonight as well as his exasperation. Twice, the girls had come to her in jitters, confirming in hushed tones that _that_ was the new neighbour. Satsuki was quite sure a great many of her workers, contracted but not lodging in the Okiya were deeply regretting their decisions.

She watched as he seemed to perk up for a moment, eyes looking behind her. Curious at what could have caught his attention, she also turned around and caught Misaki scowling in their direction. However, as soon as she saw that Satsuki's back was no longer to her, she contorted her face into a painful smile and quickly disappeared into the back with her tray of soiled glasses. Turning back to the man across from her, Satsuki saw him smirk vaguely.

"I see you've already gotten to know our little flower," Satsuki said with a blithe laugh, shaking her head at her (really, _both their_) childish antics. But this seemed to help the young man sober up. Whatever hint of amusement that was on his face had been wiped away. "I hope you don't think I was prying but I happened to see you talking to her the other day. It was very interesting." He wondered briefly if he was in trouble. "I have never seen her make such interesting faces around others."

It seemed he was _not_ in trouble. Strange. Nevertheless, Takumi digested her words with care. Another minute passed and Satsuki thought that he was done talking for the night when he asked, "What is she doing here?"

It was a random question to say the least, almost like a topic change. But in the short time she had spoken to him, Satsuki did not believe that Usui Takumi was not someone who wasted his words on trivial matters, especially something as pathetic as a change of topic. That would show a lack of understanding on his part and he seemed to be of the same spirit as Misaki when it came down to a confrontation.

"The same thing the other girls here are doing," she answered. Though it could be considered cryptic and mean of her, Satsuki kept in mind her responsibility to each of her girls and their privacy. Takumi did not seem to mind the obscurity of her response and took it in stride, waiting to see if she would elaborate at all. This once, she decided, she would give him a leg to stand on. "Trying to survive."

She was happy to see that her answer was exactly the one he had been looking for.

* * *

It was official. He was haunting her.

Going to sleep with the thought that as soon as she woke up that morning, as soon as she started her day, he would crop up with the intention of troubling her and making sure her mood stayed miserable for the rest of it. It had been less than pleasant falling asleep and simply nasty waking up. Aoi's comment at breakfast about looking like a "scraggly raccoon" did not have a positive effect on her esteem either.

How was it that a five-year-old could be so discourteous when some of the most compassionate women within Japan raised him? Save for Honoka, of course. Nonetheless, even Honoka managed to showed sporadic bursts of kindness from time to time. Or maybe, Misaki thought, she was not thinking of the reasons with the proper logic. Since, Honoka was the most daunting and easily capable of causing fatalities with her sharp tongue it only made sense that she was secretly teaching Aoi the Art of Tormenting Misaki!

'_Urgh. Wake up brain, wake up._' She let her head fall into her hands only to quickly pull it back up when her face lodged itself into a cold and sodden blanket – Honoka's blanket. '_How frightfully appropriate._' She groaned loudly as no one was in the room to inquire about her strangeness. She was quite certain. All around her, the world was conspiring on ruining her day.

As it usually did, the laundry was done in the span of a little under two hours – including the time Misaki had unintentionally devoted to beating herself with soggy clothing and imagined herself wringing out the neck of that tosser, Usui. However, that was only the easy part of her task.

There was a time, Misaki recalled sadly, where the entire chore was merely a chore. It had no unnecessary labels or titles that discriminated between 'good parts' and 'bad parts'. Yet that seemed like a long time ago. '_Only four days ago,_' she reminded herself.

Wondering whether he would be waiting outside for her again, Misaki gingerly opened the back door a few inches to peek out into the yard. She searched the entire area with a sweeping look making sure she saw no sign of her maddening neighbour.

'_Excellent. It looks like he's not there today._' Perhaps she overestimated his abilities and interest in picking on her. Perhaps, even he had enough of a heart to realize when she was trying to avoid him and wanted to be alone.

Once more, she peered through the crack in the door. Her eyes scanned the premises of the yard, sharply eying the hedges and her dreaded neighbour's empty porch. Misaki resented the idea of having to be careful and almost apprehensive in her own territory but that stupid Usui made things impossible for her to do – especially after last night. But, today, he was not there. Today, he could not goad her. Today, she would be fine. '_It should be okay._'

"Misa-chan." Misaki jolted in surprise, feeling her heart stop altogether for a millisecond. Regaining control of her breathing and making sure to school her face, she turned around to find Subaru looking down at her curiously. "What are you doing?"

Misaki gave her a small smile, hoping she did not look suspicious. For all the world, she was not the best actress around those who knew her well enough. "Nothing. I'm just going to go and hang the laundry."

Subaru smiled kindly at her and quickly pulled her hair into a bun. "In that case, why don't I help you? I'm not busy with anything right now." While every one of her sisters within the Okiya were nice, Subaru was by the most compassionate and helpful, usually loved by her customers for her gentle nature.

"It's fine, thank you. I can do it on my own." The older girl gave her an indulgent smile and an odd amount of guilt made its way into Misaki. It was not as though she had _lied_ to Subaru.

"I know you can but look at how big that pile of clothes is. It'll be faster with two hands, right?" Her protest stopped short when Subaru took hold of the other hand of the wicker basket that Misaki usually carried out and Misaki knew it was a lost cause. So, she forced herself to trudge along beside the other girl – was it the basket a little heavier than usual or was it harder to move when she was being helped? Whatever the case, she made sure to move along with Subaru's speed and balance ("This basket is so heavy. You're amazing for carrying it everyday, Misa-chan.") – she couldn't risk spilling the clothes. Still, things went on with more fluidity as they began to hang the clothing up.

'_It's nice to have some company_,' Misaki thought. They decided that things would go quickly if they both started on opposite ends of the lines and made their way to the centre. As though she had heard her thoughts, Subaru looked over her shoulder to flash her a spirited grin and Misaki returned the gesture with her own timid smile.

She was so busy wringing and hanging the laundry, she did not notice the approaching man-plague until he stood over the hedge and said, "Hello again, Tsubomi-chan."

* * *

**Author's Note: **Thank you very much for all the kind reviews and views. I appreciate all the support I am getting.  
In particular, I think what made me laugh was the review as left by _Queen Ore-sama_. Truly, I laughed quite loudly (snorts and all) when I read it. I suppose he does seem like a pedophile, no? Funnily enough, I never meant for it to seem that way considering this is a progression I'm trying to depict. It is a very good thing that he isn't hitting on her – at least, that is how **I** perceive my story (as an added note within this note, I should say that I stick to John Green's policy of a story and it's interpretation belonging to it's reader). But, yeah, he was not written as a pedophile originally nor will he written as such in the future. Otherwise, there will be police sirens in the near future for our main man. ;)

*_Translation and Terminology Notes_

_Irezumi_: tattooing in Japanese which is referred to as "insertion of ink" as a permanent skin decoration; can include many styles of tattooing (traditional by hand, machine insertion) but in the story's context it is very specific to the traditional Japanese hand-tattooing method called **tebori** ("to carve, sculpt, or inscribe) – which is admired for the way it can create very delicate gradations of colour which are more difficult to do with machines

_Yakisoba_: fried buck-wheat noodles (ramen-style noodles) that are usually quite thin in appearance (offshoot of the more widely recognized Chinese chow mein) – not to be mistaken for the softer, thicker variation of fried udon noodles known as "yakiudon"

_Tsubaki_: it means "camellia" in Japanese, which is a type of flower

_Kabuki_: as taken from Google (thank you technology!), "a form of traditional Japanese drama [and theatre] with highly stylized song, mime, and dance". Today, it is limited to males as a form of classical art however it was once considered an (erotic) form of theatre performed by both genders as entertainment

_Ikemen_: a Japanese expression that means "very handsome man" or in just plain ol' Anglais, it translates as a "hot guy"

**Author's Note (again):** I am SO sorry for all of this pointless writing in my notes. I don't blame anyone who skips them. Truthfully, it is what I would probably do were I in your shoes.

**...::::~ Ƹ̵̡Ӝ̵̨̄Ʒ ~::::..**


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